Know My Name - a RDR2 Story

What A Strange Day.

Let me tell you a story about a young woman who fell into two crowds: the good and the bad.
Of course, there are pros and cons to each category, but I suppose it only depends on the way you look at it...

TW!: Mentions of weapons
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Two more days. Two more days and then she, Brock, and a couple of his gang members ride that train to Chicago. Two days, and Kam still hadn't told Dutch nor Archibald. She had a plan for Archibald: tell him Dante's father died and they were going to Rhode Island or somewhere for the funeral. Dutch, on the other hand, was going to be a bit trickier.

She was completely sure he trusted her despite her O'Driscoll tendencies, but there was still that sliver of wariness whenever he was around her. She needed to think of a good way to go on this job without making him think that she's running back to Colm. She could bring the twins over for a meeting, but it wasn't exactly her place to bring in strangers he had only met once. Maybe a written note?

But then again, there was that idea of 'fuck you, I can do what I want' floating around. She could just tell him that she'd be gone a week, not to look for her, and she'll be back when the job's done. However, after Stonemoss Ranch, a special sort of bond formed between the two. Not a romantic nor sensual type of bond by any means, but a type she had with Colm.

She'd been writing down ideas and lists in her journal for over an hour now, not even bothering to go to work yet. Everyone was awake and already starting their day, drinking coffee or basking in the suns heat. Hosea had disappeared after drinking his cup of coffee around the fire; it surprised Kam that he wasn't hovering around her like he had the past couple of weeks.

Hosea was always hovering. Watching. Worrying. It was like he treated Kam as his own daughter. It was creepy.

Well, she guessed, it was now or never.

"What'cha writin' there, O'Driscoll?" a grumbling voice with malicious intent whispered in her ear. Of course, he wasn't actually whispering, but the voice alone was reason enough to sling an elbow back into Arthur's abdomen.

He folded over, a groan dribbling from his lips as his hands flew to his lower stomach. She smiled at the sound and turned her body around to watch his red face squint. "The hell, woman?!" he exclaimed, clearly forcing air out of his mouth just so he could breath.

"Too bad. 'Nother couple o' inches an' I would've struck gold." she laughed with a cocky smirk, surprisingly earning an equally as arrogant laugh from the older man. Kam watched as he sat down next to her, waiting for him to make some kind of move whether it was malicious or not.

"I don't think we finished our conversation from two days ago."
"Were we s'posed t'?"
"Well, I thought we were since them Braithwaite boys interrupted."
"They din't interrupt."
He seemed caught off guard by this. What was she talking about? He clearly remembered a bunch of cousins cutting their conversation short.

Why was he attempting to restart it anyway? Arthur would've thought he had plenty of time to address it earlier, but as he caught glimpses of yesterday, he supposed not. He had helped Lenny yesterday with a gang hold up at Beecher's Hope. It didn't last very long, but when he got back, Kam was already gone. And by the time he found Brutus grazing in the nearby woods, Kam had already gone to sleep.

Why was he trying? She was an O'Driscoll. She was supposed to be the enemy. So why did he find himself conversating with the enemy?

"They didn't?" he asked.

"Well, not really. There wasn't anythin' too interestin' bein' said." she spun herself back around, lifting her feet off the ground so they didn't hit her seat, and went back to writing in her journal.